The Most Insidious Kind
by FlamingSickle
Summary: A fic about the episode 'Mind Pollution' focusing entirely on Boris to see how it all happened. I hate doing summaries.
1. Plans Dashed

Author's Notes: Well, I have to say here that it would help in understanding the story if you've seen "Mind Pollution," but if not, then I guess it won't be confusing or anything. Anyway, I've done my best to make a personality for Boris, but it was a little tough since he wasn't himself for most of the episode, if you know what I mean. Enjoy!  
  
Oh, just to note, I've changed Boris's and Dimitri's names to the Russian familiars Borya and Dima, respectively, as using the full first name in casual conversation is something family and friends wouldn't do. At all. I mean, there are even diminutives for acquaintances to use before the first name. Um, enough rambling, on with the fic! Rated for drug use and referenced sex (nothing graphic, no worries).  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own nothing CP related. Except for my two action figures and my T-shirt. Those I do own. But I don't own the characters. I forgot to put a disclaimer on my previous fic, The Final Fight, so count this for that, too.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Hey, Borya, think fast!"  
  
The dusty-blonde turned towards the sound of his friend's voice just in time to see a brown American football hurtling straight at his face. Yelling a bit in surprise, he threw himself to the ground as the ball sailed overhead, where it hit the branch of a tree, causing a shower of snow to rain down upon the hapless teenager.  
  
"Just my luck," he thought as he started to pick himself up. He looked over to his friend, who was fast approaching.  
  
"You're supposed to catch the ball, not fall to the ground, Borya," his friend said as he extended a hand to help Borya up.  
  
"Well, Vanya, had I been expecting it, I might have caught it." When he was standing he brushed the snow from his clothes and picked up the book he had been carrying.  
  
"Hey, I warned you, my friend," Vanya replied with a grin. "Come on, school's over for the day, so let's go have some fun! I hear this cute new girl moved in just a few blocks from your house, so let's go!" he urged.  
  
Borya shook his head. "As enticing as that sounds, my dad said I should come home straight after school. Something about him having something important to tell me. Sorry."  
  
"Ah, don't worry about it. I'll walk home with you." The two boys turned and walked down the snowy sidewalks of Leningrad.  
  
"So, looking forward to our trip this fall?" asked Vanya.  
  
"You bet I am. I've already got almost three hundred thousand rubles saved up!" Borya excitedly replied as they rounded the corner of his street.  
  
"No way! I've only got about fifty thousand."  
  
"That," said Borya with a chuckle, "is because you always spend any money you get on computer games." He and Vanya stopped, as they had reached the door to the house. "Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow then."  
  
"All right. I'm going to go check out that new girl."  
  
"Have fun." Borya waved as his friend jogged off. Entering his home, he tossed his book casually onto the table, hearing the footsteps of his father coming towards him from the direction of the kitchen.  
  
"Welcome home, Borya," said Dima, drying his hands on a dishtowel. "How was your day?"  
  
"Fine, Dad. Seems I aced that test yesterday in World History about the American Civil War."  
  
"Wonderful! And speaking of America, I have some good news to tell you." Dima put down the towel as Borya grabbed a bag of chips from a cabinet in the kitchen and came back into the main room.  
  
"Wonderful news that has to do with America? Isn't that like an oxymoron?" Borya chuckled and sat down in a chair.  
  
"Ha ha, very funny, Borya. But this is serious, something that will be very good for you and me."  
  
Borya popped a chip into his mouth. "How's that?"  
  
"Well, you remember that promotion I had been hoping for?"  
  
"You got it?"  
  
"You might say that. It's not the one I had been hoping for exactly. This one is even better. It will pay much more than I had been expecting with the other offer."  
  
Borya stood and, having quickly devoured his snack, tossed the bag into the trashcan. "That's great, Dad! Way to go!"  
  
"There is one catch, though," Dima tentatively began. "We have to move."  
  
"Move?" Borya had a sinking feeling as he recalled how his dad had referenced America.  
  
"Unfortunately, yes. The job is at the Soviet Embassy in Washington, D.C."  
  
"We-we have to move? But what about my friends, school, what about my life here?!" Borya asked, shocked.  
  
Dima tried to reason with his son. "Borya, this is an excellent opportunity for us. And there are plenty of nice people your age in Washington, D.C. And you will be able to finish the school year; the job starts in August."  
  
"But," insisted Borya, "but what about the trip Vanya and I were planning in the fall?"  
  
Dima sighed. "I am sorry, son, but I can't back out of this now that I have accepted it, and I'd had to choose at that moment."  
  
"But Dad!"  
  
"No more arguments, Boris Dimitrovich Ivanov." Borya knew that when his dad used his full name that further protests were futile. "We will be flying to America on August 24th, so that gives you the rest of the school year and much of the summer left," Dima said sternly. "Besides, you will like it in America."  
  
"That," replied Borya angrily, "I highly doubt."  
  
~~~~~  
  
There ya go, first chapter. As for the really high ruble amounts, well, I can't get any info online as to actual exchange rates, just that in 1998 they made the ruble worth 1,000 times what it was because it was so pathetic, so I guessed, more or less. It was something like 5785 rubles to the US dollar in '97 and then 9.7051 in '98 when they changed it. Then the economy crashed. Um, but anywho, please review, even though it's just one measly chapter! 


	2. Packing and Goodbyes

Me again. Come on, guys, review! Of course, not much to review yet, lol. Okay, I don't own Boris, Dimitri, or anything related to CP. Except my shirt and action figures. Oh, I changed the rating to R because there's a *lot* of drug use later on. I mean, it's not promoted or anything, but still, just to be safe. Okay, I'll shut up now and let you guys read the story  
  
~~~~~  
  
Five months later Borya was sitting in his room, staring at the empty suitcase in front of him that he was supposed to be packing. He didn't look up as he heard a knock on the door, merely saying, "Go away."  
  
"You sure you want me to, Borya?" came Vanya's voice.  
  
"Oh, geez," said Borya, jumping up and unlocking his door. "Sorry, I didn't know it was you. Come on in."  
  
Vanya stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "So, you're still leaving tomorrow, huh?"  
  
Borya sighed. "Yeah. I'm supposed to be packing, but I just can't find the will to start."  
  
"Yeah, I know how you feel. I was like that for me when my family and I moved here from Moskva." Vanya paused, realizing something. "I thought it would be horrible here, not knowing anybody, but I met you, and look at all the fun we've had."  
  
"Yeah, all the fun I won't be having in America."  
  
Vanya couldn't help but chuckle. "I think you're missing the point, Borya. What I'm saying is that you'll probably meet some pretty nice people in Washington, D.C."  
  
"Maybe so, but I'm gonna miss all the people I know here. And what if I don't fit in? What if my English isn't good enough?"  
  
"Are you kidding me?!" asked Vanya, surprised. "You had the highest grade in our English class! You're a fluent speaker! Of course your English is fine."  
  
Borya smirked at him. "Hey, I'm trying to find reasons not to go, here."  
  
Vanya raised his hands defensively. "Sorry." He looked again at the suitcase on the bed. "Do you need help getting started?"  
  
Borya stood. "Trying to get rid of me so soon?"  
  
"Of course not! I just don't want you to get in trouble with your dad," said his friend.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so, then." He began pulling out clothes and whatnot. The two of them worked at packing all of Borya's things into boxes and suitcases for the rest of the day. It was about 7 in the evening when they finally finished just as Dima called them down for dinner.  
  
After an unusually quiet meal of borsht and crabmeat salad, Vanya and Borya went back upstairs and began bringing the boxes down from his room.  
  
"You're going to have to write me lots of letters from America and tell me all about it," grunted Vanya as they brought down the last two boxes.  
  
"You bet I will," replied Borya. "I'm really going to miss you and everyone else. You'd better write back."  
  
"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't respond? I'm almost offended you said so," Vanya said with a chuckle. He paused to look at the clock in the next room. "I hate to say it, but it's getting late; I'd better be getting home. What time are you leaving tomorrow?"  
  
"Unfortunately," Borya told him," we're leaving for the airport at four in the morning."  
  
"Well, guess I'll have to say good-bye now, then."  
  
"Yeah. I'll try to come back and visit as much as I can," said Borya.  
  
Vanya grinned. "No way; I'm coming to visit you! It'd be awesome to go visit another country, especially with you. Who knows, it might even be better than our originally planned trip!"  
  
Borya looked excited. "Yeah, it could be! And by then I could give you a tour of the city! You'll have to keep saving up. And don't forget to go and get a visa right away."  
  
"You bet, Borya. See, you've got something to look forward to now, so it won't be all that bad," said Vanya. "Anyway, I'd better get home before my mom kills me. You know how she gets when I'm just two minutes late."  
  
Borya gave a half-smile. "Yeah, I remember that one time after football practice when we stopped by the store for a snack."  
  
"Now that you mention it," replied Vanya, wincing at the memory, "so do I. I guess I'll be seeing you around then." He stepped forward, originally intending to shake Borya's hand, but he instead grasped him in an embrace. Pulling back after a second, he continued, "Don't forget to write, or I'll swim over there, find you, and kick your butt all the way to Tierra del Fuego."  
  
Borya laughed. "Don't worry about that. See ya." He felt sad as he watched his best friend go out the door, pause once more to say good-bye, and take off at a sprint down the street to get back before invoking the wrath of his mother.  
  
Closing the door, Borya sighed once more and went up to his room, not bother to say goodnight to his father as he passed Dima on the stairs.  
  
~~~~~  
  
AN: To tell you the truth, I already have 7 chapters typed and just about 9 written, but I'm only putting them up one-one-at-a-time so I have some more time to write, since I have to get more of the script of the episode. Until next time! 


	3. Numbing the Pain

Hello! What's up, guys? No reviews? Well, I guess CP isn't all that popular, so not many people probably visit this category. Oh well. I'll still post. I still don't own CP; all that stuff is owned by Turner and affiliates. Enjoy!  
  
~~~~~  
  
The move had gone fairly well. Borya, knowing there was nothing he could do to affect the situation, didn't argue and instead tried to look at thing optimistically, like the fact that Vanya was going to come and visit him. But now, find days later, Borya was fervently wishing he had somehow managed to stay home. "I hate this country!" he shouted to no on in particular as he plopped down on his bed. "I don't know anyone, I can't understand English well, and it's too damn warm here!" Frustrated, he buried his head underneath his pillow. "I should have tried to convince Dad to let me stay with Grandmother and Mishka. At least then I'd still be in my own country!"  
  
Dima, who had walked by the doorway in time to hear his son's complaints, said, "Borya, surely you don't truly hate it here."  
  
"But I do, Dad!" retorted Borya, getting to his feet. "This is horrible! I want to go back to the Soviet Union. I want to go back to Leningrad! I miss all my friends!"  
  
"Borya, I'm asking you to calm down; you can't go back. We live here now. And America is a fine country. I sure didn't hear you complaining when you found out just how many McDonald's restaurants there are here," reminded Dima with a chuckle.  
  
"Dad, there's more to life than good fast food! This country is stupid!"  
  
"Boris Dimitrovich Ivanov! I'll not have you talk bad about the United States, especially when my job is to help US-Soviet relations," Dima chastised.  
  
"Forget your job! It's that that got us moved here in the first place!" Seeing the strict look on his father's face only increased his hostility. "I'm out of here!" He grabbed some cash sitting on his desk.  
  
"Borya! What are you doing?"  
  
"Getting out of this house!" He bolted past his father and ran down the hall to the front door.  
  
"Where are you going?" his father's voice called after him, but Borya was already out the door and running south towards the Capital Mall.  
  
* * *  
  
Borya had burst out of the house with the simple intention of getting away from his father, but now, as he ran by the front of the White House, he had to admit to himself that running away hadn't exactly been his brightest idea ever. He paused for a moment to look at his surroundings, wishing he had taken more time in the five short days he and his father had been living there to get to know the area. Though he was just a few blocks from home, he was already quite lost and had no idea where his house was in relation to the Mall. He considered turning back and trying to retrace his steps, looking back the way he had come, but the very same second he turned his head, fresh anger at his father surged anew, and he continued sprinting in the direction he had been heading.  
  
Several hours passed, the sun sank gradually behind the DC skyline until it was completely dark. Borya began to feel panicked as he realized he was probably miles from home and wondered if his dad was worried about him. What he didn't know was that somewhere in his travels he had turned southeast and was now wandering the streets of Anacostia, a notoriously bad section of the city.  
  
As he ran into an alley, hoping it was somehow a shortcut back towards where he needed to be, he heard a sinister voice say, "So, you're new to Washington, D.C." Borya looked around, unsure of where the voice was coming from. "It's hard moving to a new town," it continued. "You want to be cool, but you don't fit in."  
  
By now Borya was starting to get quite nervous and stopped beneath a street lamp, hoping its light would enable him to see his assailant, should the owner of the voice attack him. It turned out that the light did help, as a man, if he could even be called that, suddenly stepped into it. Borya jumped slightly at the man's features: rat-like with pale skin and what looked to be a genuine tail protruding from beneath a tan trench coat. Before Borya could ask who (or what) he was, the man continued, "But once you've felt Bliss, none of that will matter."  
  
He held up a bag of pale green and yellow capsules that almost seemed to be glowing in the light of the lamp. Thinking of all the problems he was having here in America, Borya immediately grabbed for the bag, but it was pulled out of his reach. "Not so fast," said the man, "this is gonna cost ya."  
  
Borya reached into his pocket, closing his hand around the wad of cash he had picked up, part of the money he had been saving up for his trip with Vanya, and he pulled it out and handed it to the man, who took it and gave him the bag full of pills. The young man began to reach in for a pill but hesitated, remembering all the things his father had told him about doing drugs and how bad they were.  
  
The strange man saw his tentativeness and said eagerly, "Go on; get Blissed- out." This simple utterance caused Borya to grow angry at everything his father had ever said, his current predicament, the entire reason he was lost in an alley in D.C. in the first place. Without further pause he reached into the bag and withdrew one of the pills and swallowed it. He was surprised at the quick effect it had upon him. Almost instantaneously he forgot all his worries. His anger at his father vanished, and he began to laugh at how irate and depressed he had been only moments before.  
  
"Nothing can get you down, now," the man said, but Borya hardly heard him as he sprinted out of the alley. In his haste to rush home and tell his father he was sorry, he failed to notice a passing bus until it was nearly too late.  
  
He only realized he was falling when he had already hit the pavement, but strangely, nothing hurt. The revelation merely caused him to laugh harder as he sat up, holding his head, which, despite the lack of feeling injured, clearly was bleeding. Borya could see it on his hand.  
  
The man stepped forward, saying, "Yeah, you're feeling no pain." He laughed as Borya took off down the street, his newly acquired drugs in hand.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Until next time, guys! Review, okay? :) 


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